


You Can(t) Fuck When You're Dead

by methylethyl



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylethyl/pseuds/methylethyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as ghosts, all Brian and Justin want to do is fuck. Sadly, fate seems to disagree with this idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can(t) Fuck When You're Dead

  
**You Can('t) Fuck When You're Dead**   


"So we're dead," Brian observes.

Justin nods. "Yep."

Sirens are screaming in the distance, and smoke continues to billow out from a smashed window in the Corvette. A bird shits on the roof of the burning car.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd let me drive," Justin says.

"Shut up. Let's go find some dead people to fuck."

Justin thinks about being annoyed, but then he has another thought. "Hey—we can fuck raw now!"

Brian grins, and then tugs him by the collar of his shirt. "C'mon, let's go find a somewhat horizontal surface in a highly crowded location, remove our clothing and have sexual relations. I can't wait to get my dick in your tight little dead ass."

"This brings a whole new meaning to rigor mortis," Justin says happily.

 

"Here!" Justin declares, coming to a stop on the sidewalk.

Brian looks up and down the street. They're in breeder central right now, just across the street from a Big Q. He shrugs. "Sure."

"This is gonna be so awesome," Justin says excitedly, pushing down his pants. "Now that we're dead and no one can see us, we can fuck on the sidewalk, in the park, at the mall—"

"Against the wall," Brian instructs, unzipping his jeans.

"—at the art museum, the dance floor of Babylon, my father's store—"

As he continues to rattle off the list he's clearly been planning for way too long, he positions himself against the brick wall of the ice cream shop and wiggles his ass impatiently.

"—and a rooftop, and St. James, we have to do St. James—oh! And the zoo! Can't miss that one."

"Perish the thought," Brian says, positioning himself behind Justin.

"Oh my God, we could go fuck  _right in front of Stockwell_."

Brian begins to nibble at Justin's neck, his finger running down the crack of Justin's ass.

"And the library, and in the diner…"

Grinding a little, Brian's dick is now sufficiently hard and throbbing. Justin responds to him almost automatically, not breaking his monologue.

"Definitely in the main PIFA auditorium. And a graveyard! Or maybe that's too weird, since we're dead and all. What do you think?"

"I'm thinking that I would have rather died with a deaf mute," Brian mutters, grinding a little harder, licking his way up Justin's neck and latching onto his earlobe.

"Mm…" Justin groans, leaning his head back, a lazy smile on his face.

"Raw," Brian whispers in his ear, reaching into his pocket with the finger that isn't gently circling the rim of Justin's hole. There's lube there. Never-ending lube, he thinks. Being dead is the  _shit_. "No condom, just skin, skin on skin, my come making it slick and hot…"

"Oh my God, Brian." Justin wiggles his ass impatiently.

It's the fastest preparation Brian thinks he's ever done. He's sure that Justin is willing himself to open up faster, or maybe being dead just made his ass less tight, Brian doesn't know and doesn't care—all he knows is that his dick is poised at Justin's hole, throbbing and ready to push in. His hands are on Justin's slim hips, and Justin's hands are gripping his wrists.

"Do it, do it, do it," Justin chants, squeezing Brian's wrists and thrusting back furiously.

Brian inhales, prepared to push in—

"Brian Kinney!"

"IIYEEE!" Justin shrieks, leaping three feet in the air and landing in a trash can.

Brian goggles.

"I can't  _believe_  you two!" Debbie yells, throwing her hands up. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"We're dead," Brian says disbelievingly. "No one can see us."

Justin pops out of the trash can, eyes wide in alarm. "Oh my God, Deb, you're not dead, too, are you?"

"We're in hell," Brian moans, closing his eyes.

"Sunshi—Brian? Wh—what… Where did you go?"

Brian's eyes fly open, and he sees Debbie looking around in confusion. Her eyes gaze right through him, right through Justin, just like everyone else. He frowns, watching her.

"Wh…" Debbie brings a hand up to her head. "Fuck. I knew Michael put something in my coffee this morning, the little shit… told him I don't need that fucking heart medication…"

She wanders off.

"Weird," Brian says.

"Wanna fuck in a trash can?" Justin asks.

Brian gives him a withering look.

 

"I still say—unf—we should have done this in the park," Justin grunts, as Brian jams another finger into his ass.

"The hell if anyone is get in the way of me fucking you again," Brian growls, scissoring his fingers viciously.

"Uh… uhuh… huh…"

Justin is now incoherent.

"We're dead," Brian continues, adding a little more lube. "And so far, we haven't seen any other dead people. But Debbie, who is alive and well, saw  _us_."

"Fuck me," Justin gasps.

"So we're gonna fuck in the loft—"

"Brian!"

"—because at least here there's no one who's going to see us. Make sense?"

Justin reaches up and grabs a handful of Brian's hair, yanking his face down so that their noses are touching, eyes locked onto each other. " _Fuck me_.  _Now_."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Justin thinks Brian is damn lucky he's already dead.

The hold on his hair is released, and Brian straightens.

Beneath him, Justin is wriggling like a puppy.

"Stop it. I have to be able to get it in your ass, first," Brian says, delivering a sharp smack to Justin's bubble butt.

Sullenly, Justin goes still.

Taking in a deep breath, Brian readies the head of his cock. They're in position. He closes his eyes and carefully pushes forward—

And it's tight. It's hot. It's wet, smooth flesh clenching around the head of his dick, like the world's deepest, hardest blowjob, and Brian has to stop because he almost comes  _right there_. Fuck. Fuck. Deep breaths. He is not going to come now, when he's only gotten the head of his dick in Justin's ass. There are eight more inches to go, and all of them are aching for this new fleshy sensation.

"Brian," Justin moans, pushing up a little. "Oh my God, it's amazing,  _more_ —"

With a loud bang, the loft door slides open. Brian registers Michael coming in, looking as if he's been crying, but all he knows is that Jesus  _fuck_  he needs to get the rest of his dick in Justin's ass.

"Brian, wait," Justin protests, grabbing his hand. His eyes are on Michael.

"We're dead, he can't see us."

"But Debbie—"

"The other eight inches need to experience this," Brian growled, grabbing Justin's hips. "I have to love them all equally."

"I'm pretty sure it's not discrimination if it's all on the same organ," Justin comments.

Until Brian thrusts his dick the rest of the way in.

"Fuck!" Justin moans, his ass clenching hard.

"Yes…" Brian hisses.

"AUGH!" Michael screams.

It takes them a moment to realize that neither one of them made that noise.

"I'm seeing dead people, I'm seeing dead people…" Michael is backing away from them, but then trips over a stray paintbrush and crashes to the floor.

"Fuck, Mikey," Brian swears, pulling out of Justin.

"Shit, Brian!" Justin cries, hands going back to his ass, and he curls in on himself.

"I saw dead people," Michael says, blinking at the bed. "Oh my God, I saw dead people."

"Past tense?" Brian asks, arranging himself so that he's sitting on the end of the bed. He reaches back without looking and rubs Justin's side in some form of an emotionally retarded apology. "As in, not anymore? Why the hell not?"

"Fuck, I gotta get out of here," Michael mutters, scrambling up off the ground.

"Why are people seeing us?" Brian demands, whirling on Justin.

"Asshole," Justin spits, through clenched teeth.

"Oh, get over it. You're  _dead_."

"Well, then, I can hold a hell of a grudge, can't I?" Justin snipes.

Brian rolls his eyes, taking his hand back. "Well, let me know when you're done being pissed at me. Babylon will only be around for another fifty or so years…"

Justin can't help himself. "Babylon?"

 

They dance for approximately two minutes, and then Brian's dragging Justin into the backroom. It's packed. Being dead, of course, they can just walk through people, but it's still a little disconcerting to have someone giving a blowjob right through your abdomen.

But they have lots of practice in the backroom, and being dead hasn't affected things at all. Within five minutes, Justin is braced against the only open bit of wall space around, begging and ready.

"So hot," Brian murmurs, threading a hand through Justin's hair as he pushes the head of his cock against Justin's hole. "So fucking hot."

Frustrated, Justin tries to reach back, but Brian grabs his hands and pins them to the wall.

"Ready?" he asks.

Justin nods, breathing hard with anticipation.

And so Brian pushes in, and he's immediately overwhelmed with the sensation of Justin's skin—his muscles, so tight and hot and wet—oh god, monogamy might have actually been worth it, just to get to experience this every night. Holy fuck, this is unbelievable.

Brian is in danger of coming on the spot.

He takes careful breaths and stills himself, listening to the grunts and screams around him of other people getting fucked. He's reigning in control, he's slowly coming back to himself—

Pleasure explodes down his dick as Justin practically  _milks_ his cock, and he lets out a hoarse cry. "Aarg! Fuck!"

He sees white, that's how hard it is to not come right there and then.

"You little  _shit_ ," Brian growls, grabbing Justin's shoulders and shoving him hard against the wall.

Justin turns his head, smiling angelically. "What?"

Brian glares, but unable to help himself, he pushes the rest of his dick in. Ecstasy floods his body as Justin's muscles are completely around his dick, so hard and so fucking  _tight_  and for a moment, he doesn't remember to pull out. Gritting his teeth, determined to make it through at least two thrusts (and there's no way he's coming before Justin), he draws out.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" someone next to him is screaming. Brian absently wonders if their fuck is anywhere near as incredible as his is right now, and thinks that there's no way that could be true. But damn, they sure are screaming up a storm.

He's prepared to push back into Justin when something  _brushes against his back_.

Brian whips his head around and finds half the backroom staring at them—including Emmett, whose mouth is hanging open. Words are flying around, threading through the music.

"Aren't they dead?"

"I heard they died this afternoon."

"Maybe someone hired an impersonator?"

"Isn't this Kinney's club?"

And then Justin twists, turning around. "Brian, what—"

"Oh my God!" Emmett shrieks, as the room erupts in a quiet panic. He turns to his man of the night—a redhead who looks like he's been bred with a refrigerator—and demands, "Did you see that? Am I going crazy? Oh my God, they just… They were right there!"

Murmurs go around the room, and it's clearly being written off as drugs or alcohol. People return to their fucking. Emmett is still staring at them in horror, fanning himself a little, and Refrigerator Man rolls his eyes and abandons him.

"Shit," Brian mutters, gently pulling out of Justin. This is the third time he's been interrupted—and he hadn't gotten laid since this morning!

"What do you think it is?" Justin asks, turning around as he zips his pants. "People can only see us when we're having sex?"

Biting down on his frustration, because it's certainly not  _Justin's_  fault that they can't seem to fuck in peace, Brian exhales. "I don't know. It's fucked, whatever it is."

Justin winds his arms around Brian, pulling him close. "I think it's the opposite of fucked, actually."

Sighing, Brian tucks Justin's head under his chin.

But then he gets an idea.

 

"Oh, Brian, you just take me to the nicest of places!" Justin exclaims in falsetto as they pass through the walls of the hotel.

And five minutes later, they've found an empty room ("Who checks into a hotel this nice at one in the morning?" Brian points out) and Brian's cock is ready to plunge into Justin, achingly hard after being denied no less than three times today. Christ, he needs a fucking orgasm.

Brian closes his eyes, pushes the head of his cock into Justin's asshole—

The door snicks, and little feet come pounding into the room.

"Daddy!" a high voice squeals. "Jus'in! Mama, Daddy and Jus'in are in our room!"

"Gus, don't run!"

Brian doesn't think he's ever had an erection die faster.

 

"C'mon, let's try another hotel," Brian says, shoving Justin forward. "One without munchers come down from Canada."

"I don't think so," Justin replies, stepping away.

Brian stared incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"There's only so many times you can pull out of me in one day," Justin says, glaring.

"Whiner."

"So go jerk off—here, I'll provide a soundtrack." Justin puts on his falsetto voice again. "Oh, yes, Brian! Harder! You really are as a good of a fuck as they say—oh, Brian, right there! Just wait until my friends hear about this. Oh my God, right there!"

But when Brian starts to jerk off and there are no interruptions, Justin is suddenly inspired and drops to his knees.

It seems that while fate is determined to not let them actually fuck, she's got nothing against hand jobs or fellatio.

 

"You're dead for this, Mikey," Brian hisses, from their spot about twenty feet away from the caskets. "I'm gonna fucking  _kill_  you."

"Or at least haunt him for several decades," Justin puts in cheerfully.

Brian groans and buries his head in his hands. "I can't watch."

"It's not so bad," Justin says, patting his arm while smiling widely. "Really. I think it's sweet."

"Shut up."

"At least they got us a really nice plot. And the joint headstone—"

"Oh my God. Oh my God, shut up."

"It looks really expensive," Justin offers. "And they buried you in Armani, and those Gucci shoes you got last spring. And I got that Prada suit you bought for me."

"There is that," Brian mutters, feeling a little mollified.

Justin grins wickedly. "Of course, I would expect nothing less from my 'devoted, loving husb—"

"I'm not your fucking  _husband!_ "

"Didn't you hear Ben? You were in spirit."

Brian moans in agony.

 

But masturbation and blowjobs can only provide a substitute for so long—especially for one with such standards as Brian Kinney. Especially since he'd gotten a taste of what it feels like to be in Justin Taylor's ass, sans latex.

"Brian, we failed the first three times. What makes you think that this time is going to be different?"

"Law of averages."

Justin rolls his eyes.

"We're in an HIV clinic at nine o'clock at night," Brian reasons, gesturing at the deserted conference room they're standing in. "Why the hell would anyone be here now? The place closed four hours ago."

"I'll make you a deal," Justin says, at length.

Brian really, really hates it when Justin gets that look in his eye.

 

"It's nine o'clock at night," Justin says in his falsetto. "Why the hell would anyone be here now?"

"Do you ever get tired of that voice?" Brian asks tiredly.

"Ted!" Justin fairly shrieks. " _Ted_  saw us fucking, Brian! I don't think I'm ever gonna get hard again."

"How was I supposed to know that they had a fucking NA meeting tonight?"

"Um, Ted works for you? You should know these things!"

"Worked. Past tense."

Justin heaves a sigh. "Whatever. Anyway, at least there's a bright side to this."

"Wh—shit. Justin, no."

"Yes."

"No."

"You're all mine, bottom boy."

"Did I mention that I had my toes crossed when we made that deal?" Brian says hopefully.

Justin smirks. "I have an idea. Trust me, you're going to like this."

 

"Admit it," Justin demands, twisting his three lubed-up fingers inside of Brian's ass (the big sissy always needs more preparation than anyone Justin's ever fucked in his life—once, he'd made Justin rim him for  _six hours_  before he'd allowed any penetration to occur [which may be a slight exaggeration on Justin's part, but that's neither here nor there]). "This was a great idea."

Behind them, Craig Taylor is checking his email.

"Well, it definitely answers the question of whether or not I'm able to get hard in front of the in-laws," Brian admits, somewhat breathlessly.

"I'm a genius," Justin says certainly, for at least the seventh time. " _And_  I'm gonna get laid."

Brian grunts in agreement.

"We can visit your mother, next!" Justin suggests brightly.

"Can we stop talking and start fucking?" Brian asks.

The plan is to keep fucking when Craig sees them so that they can finally,  _finally_  have sex, and in the process hopefully give Craig a heart attack, or at least raise his cholesterol by a few points.

Justin nods, sliding his fingers out and then rubbing his hand up and down his cock. Brian requires enough lube that there really isn't any need to dump more on his hand for his cock—there's still at least thirty ounces glazing his hand. The big sissy.

He takes a big breath, glances at his still-oblivious father, and then positions his cock so that the head is butting against Brian's hole. He's such a fucking genius.

And then, gripping Brian's hand, he pushes in.

Oh, and it's so good. It's amazing. It's so fucking tight, so hot, so intimate and he feels a rush of love or ecstasy or  _something_  rush over him, and suddenly he isn't buried deep enough. Beneath him, Brian is letting out a keening noise that sounds more pleasurable than painful, and Justin barely registers it. He barely registers his father's scream of "Jesus fucking Christ! Oh, God!"

What he does register is the door opening and his mother rushing in.

"Did you think that—"

She stops, staring.

"Mom?" Justin says, dumbfounded.

Brian's head jerks up. "Aw,  _fuck!_ "

Jennifer blinks once, twice at them, and then shakes her head. Her mouth opens, but no words come out.

"Jennifer?" Craig says, sounding bewildered. "What—did you see—"

Brian sighs, letting his head come down to rest on his forearms. "One orgasm. One motherfucking orgasm. Is it really too much to ask for?"

"Maybe we're in hell," Justin suggests.

Brian doesn't respond.

 

Over the course of the day, they try to fuck three more times (Justin's back on the bottom, and only a little disgruntled about it) and are, three times more, interrupted. Melanie catches them at the park. Ben spots them in the gym sauna. Debbie sees them again, this time in the grocery store, and she's now convinced that Michael's been drugging her coffee and walks away making alarmingly creative death threats.

Frustrated, horny, they blow each other and then go dancing at Babylon. It isn't quite the same, without the feeling of a thousand sweaty bodies around them bumping and grinding—Justin, for a moment, almost feels sad. But then the song transforms into one of his favorites that he'd discovered when he was interning at Vangard, and he doesn't remember the moment of almost sadness until the following morning, when he and Brian are sitting on the bank of the river.

"Don't you think it's odd that we're not sad?" he asks. "I mean, we died. It's kind of depressing."

"We've got the rest of our lives to be depressed," Brian answers with a shrug. "Or the rest of our deaths. Whatever."

Justin shrugs, too. He considers blowing it off, but the morose mood has really struck him. "We're never going to fuck again, are we?"

"Well, not for a lack of trying, at least," Brian snorts.

Justin's hand goes down to his ass, wincing. "No kidding."

"My mother always said that God hated the sodomites," Brian says, almost sighing it.

"And Brian Kinney always said that was bullshit," Justin reminds him.

Brian turns to him, eyebrows raised. "Tell me, Sunshine. How many days has it been?"

Justin looks down, unwilling to acknowledge that he might be right, when he's suddenly struck with inspiration.

"I've got it!" he cries, leaping to his feet.

Brian tilts his head up lazily. "I didn't realize you took so much pride in being able to count to six."

"Not that," Justin says impatiently. "Here—"

He grabs Brian's hand and closes his eyes, thinking, wishing—

There's a  _whoosh_ , and when he opens his eyes, they're surrounded by an unfamiliar plain of grass, rolling for miles, mountains in the distance. And, most importantly, no signs of humanity anywhere.

"What the fuck did you do?" Brian asks. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Montana!" Justin says brightly.

Brian blinks.

"I don't know anyone in Montana," Justin says pointedly. "Do  _you?_ "

"Can't… say that I do," Brian replies slowly.

"I don't  _see_  anyone in Montana," Justin continues, looking around. "Do you?"

Brian shakes his head, catching on quickly. "Not a soul."

Justin beams. "It's genius, isn't it?"

And just like that, Brian is painfully horny. He tackles Justin to the ground, certain that  _this_  time, they are going to fuck. There will be penetration, and there will be thrusting, and there will be a motherfucking  _orgasm_.

He has Justin's jeans down immediately and only takes a second to coat his fingers with a little extra lube before thrusting one into Justin's ass. As he twists and prepares to enter the second one, he leans over and captures Justin's mouth in a fierce kiss. His heart is pounding. His head is spinning. Going six days without fucking is really, really messing with his self-control.

The second finger goes in.

"Ready," Justin gasps, twenty seconds later.

Brian twists his fingers probingly. "No you're not."

"Do you really care?" Justin demands. "Fuck me already!"

Brian grins and slides his fingers out, bringing his hand to his dick, which is fully erect and leaking precum. He swallows and angles it with Justin's entrance, hands trembling with anticipation. Memories of what it was like to be inside Justin's ass, raw and hot and tight, flash through his mind and pleasure shoots straight down his dick.

Okay.

It's time for an orgasm. He's ready, and he's about to slide right in.

That is, until a familiar, not-Justin voice speaks.

"You two are really determined, aren't you?"

"Vic?"

"VIC?"

Vic grins, and then his eyes go to their groins, and his eyebrows wiggle.

"Fuck, you're dead!" Brian half-yells, jumping off of Justin and zipping up his pants hurriedly. He looks around. "We're in fucking Montana!"

"It was a good idea, actually," Vic says mildly.

"Wh—idea?" Justin asks. His eyes narrow. " _You're_  the one who's been preventing us from fucking?"

Vic laughs. "Oh, no. That's not me. They just sent me to intervene before the two of you actually ended up doing it."

"Who's  _they?_ " Brian demands.

"And why don't they want us to fuck?" Justin adds.

"Well, see…" Vic thinks for a moment. "You guys are in a kind of limbo right now. You can watch over your loved ones, sometimes visit them in their dreams."

"And they can watch you fuck?" Brian asks.

Vic shakes his head. "It's a defense mechanism. See, having sex brings out your… life signature, if you will. Your loved ones are drawn to it. And when you—well, to be frank, when there's penetration, or a threat of penetration, you become visible to the living world. And theoretically, when you become visible, one of your loved ones will be drawn to your life signature and see you, and you'll be encouraged to stop."

"And what's the big deal about penetration?" Brian asks. He's looking a bit twitchy, by now.

"Having sex in this world… it almost always results in babies."

Justin stares.

Brian stares.

"Grim reaper babies," Vic elaborates.

"Vic, I'm a man," Justin says slowly. "I don't have ovaries. Or a vagina. Or a menstrual cycle."

Brian lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like ' _that one's_   _debatable'_ , but Justin lets it slide.

"I'm a man, and I can't have babies," he finishes firmly, nodding.

Vic smiles. "Well, you couldn't before."

Justin's eyes widen.

"You're telling me that we can't fuck because of a grim reaper overpopulation problem?" Brian demands.

"Essentially," Vic says with a shrug.

"Well, fuck that," Brian says, unzipping his jeans again. "Justin, we're having a baby. Get on the ground."

"Excuse me?" Justin says, eyebrows raised. "I have no interest in birthing little grim reaper babies. You wanna fuck, you can carry  _my_  babies."

"Oh, yeah. That's gonna happen. Ground, now, Sunshine."

"What about condoms?" Justin asks, turning to Vic with desperation in his voice.

"They haven't quite caught on to the idea," Vic says, making a slight face.

"Fuck," Justin mutters. He doesn't like the look that Brian is giving him.

"Nine month gestation period?" Brian asks, eying Justin.

Vic blinks. "Uh. I think so. But I don't think this is really the solution you're looking for."

"So we'll have about six months before you get fat," Brian decides, possibly not having even heard Vic. "I'll just have to stock up for those last three, but we should be okay until then… We can ditch the kid on a farm somewhere, fuck again for—"

"Brian, I'm not—you're not getting me pregnant!" Justin splutters. "Absolutely not."

"There is another option," Vic puts in hastily.

"Reincarnation?" Brian asks dubiously.

"Please say no," Justin says. "Brian would be reincarnated as, like, a dung beetle, and then we'd  _really_ never have sex again."

"No reincarnation," Vic assures them as Brian opens his mouth, possibly to make a few suggestions as to what kind of hideous insect  _Justin_  would be reincarnated as. "You just kind of, ah, fade out of limbo and into the next world. Heaven, if you want to call it that. You can fuck as much as you want to, there."

Silence.

"That's it?" Brian demands. "That's  _it?_  I've gone a week without having sex and all I have to do is—is fucking  _fade?_ "

He sounds like he might cry. Or punch someone. Mostly punch someone.

Justin takes a step away.

Vic shrugs. "It's uncommon for people to want to fade immediately. Most people like to watch over their families, friends—"

"Tell me how to do it," Brian interrupts, advancing on Vic.

"But Brian, what about Michael?" Justin asks.

"He'll be fine," Brian says automatically. He's fixed on Vic. "Tell me. Now."

"What about Debbie?" Justin tries.

"She'll be fine."

"Lindsay?"

"Do you not _want_  to fuck?" Brian demands, whirling on Justin. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Gus?" Justin suggests hesitantly.

Brian crosses over to him in one stride and grabs hold of his collar, practically lifting him off the ground. "I—need—to—fuck—you—right—now."

"But—"

"RIGHT NOW," Brian suddenly bellows. "I HAVE NOT HAD SEX IN SIX DAYS AND I NEED TO BURY MY DICK IN YOUR ASS AND HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING ORGASM. AM I MAKING MYSELF VERY CLEAR HERE?"

Justin nods quickly, eyes wide.

Brian releases him and he turns to Vic, slightly calmer. "Now, tell me how to get the fuck out of here."

Vic waves his hand. "Just… close your eyes and think zen thoughts. Go one with the universe."

Brian squeezes his eyes shut and scrunches up his face, like a child making a wish—or attempting to get a particularly large shit out of his ass.

Justin sighs. "He's gonna regret this in about thirty minutes."

But despite it all, Brian looks a little more transparent by the time Justin's finished his sentence.

"Better join him," Vic advises.

"The places I follow you to, Brian," Justin mutters, but he, too, closes his eyes.

As Brian continues to fade, gradually leaving behind this world and becoming a part of the next, his lips are moving in a silent chant. Vic can't tell if his lips are forming the word "thrusting" or "Justin" over and over again, but in any event, his now mostly-transparent pants are displaying an impressive erection.

Justin's fading quickly, faster than Brian. He has a small grin on his face, and he's starting to become noticeably aroused, too.

Vic has a feeling that they're going to get their motherfucking orgasm—and many, many more.

That is, after they pass through their obligatory seven-day abstinence period to fully move on to the next world.


End file.
